


The Song

by inkchantress



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Angst, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Needs a Hug, Akumatized Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Akumatized Main Character(s), Author Is Sleep Deprived, Episode: s03 Chat Blanc, F/M, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, Hurt Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Jeez, The Author Regrets Nothing, and i thought i was done with adrien angst, but like, if you can't tell i love him and he needs a bREAK, so thomas astruc posted a tweet that said he was alone for MONTHS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:48:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22255186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkchantress/pseuds/inkchantress
Summary: Chat Blanc is alone.In conclusion?It sucks.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 89





	The Song

Adrien Agreste could do many things.

He did not give himself credit for much in his life, but he did give himself credit for that. He could do many things. He could go to school, get good grades, do his homework, have regular photoshoots, buy Camembert, have friends, fight crime in a skintight leather catsuit, date Marinette Dupain-Cheng, excel at fencing, learn Chinese, _and_ practice piano, all while maintaining a safe distance from his father.

He could multitask better than anyone he knew.

He’d heard people say that _Adrien Agreste can do anything._ He always hotly denied it, but he remembered each and every compliment.

Chat Noir was equally skilled--he could fight akumas, make killer puns, and flirt with Ladybug, all while looking super fly.

But there was a skill that both Adrien and Chat Noir lacked profusely.

It was small, yes. Barely worth mentioning. But it was there.

Neither Adrien Agreste nor Chat Noir could write a song to save his life.

Play piano, yes. Sing, absolutely. And he could write poetry like nobody’s business. But the intersection of those talents just didn’t exist in Adrien’s brain.

A small fault. A tiny flaw. But it existed nonetheless.

> _The sky had been blue, on the day the world ended, and there was a tune stuck in his head. A catchy little song, happy and bouncy, and he wouldn’t stop humming it._
> 
> _He was sure it was original, that he had come up with it all on his own. But it existed merely as a fun jingle, no words. A hummable little tune._

The sky was a different kind of blue now. Everything was gone, washed away--but a few things remained. Marinette’s face, her voice, and the unforgettable melody.

He sat on the edge of the building, hummed it over and over and over.

> _“Are you ready?” Marinette had asked him, voice pulled taut with nerves. She was crouched on the side of the building, swinging her yoyo round and round, and her fingers were very slightly shaking._
> 
> _He’d nodded slowly._

His legs dangled over the edge, where, miles below, there sat the city of Paris. In ruins. In wreckage. Underwater.

Chat Noir could do many things. Adrien Agreste could do more. But everything that Chat Blanc tried to do, he messed up.

> _“What are you humming?” she’d asked._
> 
> _He shrugged. “I don’t know.”_
> 
> _“Did you make it up?”_
> 
> _“Yeah.” He paused, looked at her face. “I can stop, if you--”_
> 
> _“No,” she said. “Keep going. I like it.”_

The song needed words, he decided.

Neither Chat Noir nor Adrien Agreste could write songs, but maybe Chat Blanc could.

> _He’d closed his eyes and hummed his lady’s tune, feeling the light breeze through his hair, about to face Hawkmoth for what might really, honestly be the final time, thinking_ maybe this is where it ends. 

Chat Blanc had, after all, already accomplished things that neither Adrien nor Chat Noir could even dream of. He looked at his feet, at his legs sitting on the roof of the tallest building that remained.

He would keep it simple, direct. Lyrics popped into his head.

> _He’d finished humming the tune and looked over to see that her eyes were closed, and she was very slightly swaying, not trembling anymore. She looked like something so strong, so beautiful, and in that moment he loved her so much he thought it might break him._

He closed his eyes and saw the ghost of his Lady, turned to dust, eyes wide and mouth open. He only ever saw her in his nightmares, in the space between sleeping and waking.

He hummed louder.

> _“That was beautiful,” she'd told him. “What are you calling it?”_
> 
> _He wished he could say something really poetic, like ‘Ballade to My Lady’ or ‘Marinette’s Melody’, but in that moment he didn’t have time to think, so he just shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”_
> 
> _“Well,” she said, “tell me when you find out.”_

More song lyrics appeared, weaving themselves into the melody he’d created. The happiness of the tune was killing him.

> _“And yes,” he'd replied, twirling his baton and giving her a twinkling smile._
> 
> _“Yes what?”_
> 
> _“I’m ready.”_

It seemed there was one simple thing it seemed Chat Blanc was good at, the one simple thing that neither Adrien Agreste nor Chat Noir could do.

He shut his eyes tighter to banish the ghosts and only saw more Ladybug, more Marinette, more, more, more.

> _They both faced forward, facing Hawkmoth, facing the future. Facing the end. He was scared, of course--hell, he was terrified--but they both were. Her hand brushed against his and then she interlaced their fingers and squeezed tight. She was rock-solid, picture perfect, and his heart swelled._
> 
> _“Me, too,” she had whispered._

His heart had left him long ago.

> _The sky had been blue on the day the world had ended, a picturesque kind of blue, and Adrien thought he could do anything. He was wrong, of course, so terribly wrong, but in the moment he was so filled with adrenaline, his hand in hers, the wind in their hair, that he was on top of the world._

Chat looked on at the apocalyptic wasteland that greeted him, half underwater, and he found himself dreading the day he’d forget her face. Dreading the day the nightmares would stop and he would be truly alone.

He was still scared of losing her. 

_“Little kitty on a roof, all alone without his Lady...”_

**Author's Note:**

> Every version of Adrien is baby and you may quote me on that.  
> (I almost didn't post this one because I thought it wasn't good compared to the other stuff I made--it was in my drafts for a while--but chat blanc deserves something at least).  
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated ❤︎  
> You can find me on tumblr at https://inkchantress.tumblr.com


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